the basics of crazy
by meatballs in the impala
Summary: The tips and secrets of the married life, as seen through the eyes of the Winchesters. Sometimes it does matter who remembers to take out the trash. Domestic!AU.
1. the one with the groceries

**status **ongoing  
**spoilers **minor—really, people, keep up with the series, will you?  
**background **the domestic!au. Jo and Dean are happily married, still (sort of) hunting, and have a boy named Matt.  
**notice **I got the idea for this off an ask thing on tumblr. Although the chestervelle section is kind of limited out there, I still found some hella rad shit. It's a ten-day project, which means an update per day. I've been toying with it for a few weeks and now it's time it saw the light of day. Oh, and I don't really know what char siu is. I just googled Chinese food. My apologies to the Chinese who read this story—my knowledge of your exceptional cuisine is rather limited.

* * *

**i. the one with the groceries**

* * *

They learn a lot about each other in the first few months of their shared life. One of the most prominent things, one that Dean keeps re-learning as time passes, is that Jo absolutely sucks at anything even remotely domestic. She fails at cooking, the laundry always somehow gets messed up, and the dishes are mostly the same before and after she washes them.

He can't help but wonder exactly how she managed to survive on her own for so long before he happened to swoop into her life and save her.

However, if there is one thing that Jo completely, irrevocably sucks at, that is buying groceries. And although she can try her luck with dishes, laundry or cooking and actually manage an acceptable result, it's like she has absolutely no clue about what kinds of food there are in the world, even though she eats mostly everything.

The only thing Jo excels at when it comes to the survival of the human species is ordering Chinese food. That is, besides being able to handle both guns and knives like extensions of her arms.

She knows the menus by heart, can spell out the various sauces and duck varieties in their native tongue, and she knows better than anyone how to combine dishes to give you the ultimate gastronomical experience. But her talents in the domestic domain reach out pretty much this far.

And so Dean has taken it up to himself to do the groceries — among other things. If it was only about him and Jo, he thinks that maybe they could survive solely on Chinese food and cheeseburgers. But they also have a kid in the house, and though Matt is truly indifferent to anything other than his colorful toys, Dean's pretty sure that he would notice if his diet was reduced to freaking bamboo.

"Do I really have to be here, Dean?" Jo asks, throwing a box of rice biscuits in their cart, as they stroll down the aisles at the supermarket.

With a disgusted look in his face, Dean puts them back on the shelf. "Yes. Because it's been almost two years, and you still can't buy milk without specific instructions."

"Hey, I pushed a kid out of my vagina. What'd _you_ do, o' mighty Dean-o?"

Dean rolls his eyes and grabs a box of Kleenex. It always comes down to this argument between them. No matter what Dean does, to hell if he saves the goddamn world and averts the freaking Apocalypse, it will still pale in comparison to giving birth. He suspects that she's kind of inflating things, but since there is no possible way he can ever have first-hand experience on the matter, he always assumes the battle lost.

"Whatever. Hey—pay attention," he chastises her when she stands drooling before the cookie aisle. "This is important. What kind of chlorine do we get? The yellow or the green one?"

"I don't know, the green one."

"Wrong. The yellow one, because it's sanitizing."

Jo snorts and grabs box of chocolate chipped cookies from the shelf. "Jesus fucking Christ, Dean. Would you like an apron and a bandana with that? Fucking housewife, I swear."

He wants to scold her for many things, swearing like a sailor being one of them. Seriously, what with Jo's potty mouth, he wouldn't be surprised if Matt's first word would be _asshole _or something more disturbing. It sure as hell wasn't gonna be _mama_ or _dada_. But he refrains from it, postpones it for another day, and wraps one arm around Jo's shoulders, gluing her to his side.

"What am I gonna do with ya, eh?" he says, pressing a kiss against the crown of her head and she laughs. "When are you going to become a regular housewife?"

"Never," Jo scoffs, staring lovingly at Captain Crunch as they pass them buy. "I think I'm more of a MILF."

Dean pukes a little in his mouth. "Jo, I think you should stop talking _right now_."

"What? You can't expect me to become a soccer mom or something. I'm too cool for that. Plus, the amount of swearing I do could give Gordon Ramsay a run for his money."

He nods in agreement, unloading the cart. "That's for sure."

"Say, what's for dinner? Feeling up for some mac and cheese?" Jo asks with half a mind, her hands fishing for some cash in her jeans as the girl behind the counter scans the last of their groceries.

Dean finds himself grinning as she pays the cashier and mutters _thank you _with a sincere smile, before she picks up the two bags he left and jogs up to him by the exit of the store.

"Nah. I think I'm in the mood for some _char siu _tonight," he says and the words are barely out of his mouth before Jo is smothering him with kisses.

Because even though she might be a disaster when it comes to being a mom in the conventional sense of the word, she's a fucking firework at everything else.


	2. the one with the booze

******status **ongoing**  
****background **the domestic!au. Jo and Dean are happily married, still (sort of) hunting, and have a boy named Matt.**  
****notice **I like Vonnegut. And therefore Jo likes Vonnegut. Just to be clear on that. I'm sure many of you will find Dean to be a little out of character in this universe. Truth is, while I love badass Dean who slays vampires and hunts demons, I think the domestic life would have brought up different aspects of his personality. Case in point, when the boys first settled at the bunker, we saw Dean wearing a robe, drinking coffee and generally nesting. I think the same thing would have happened if he had ever settled down for a normal life—I'm not taking his time with Lisa and Ben in account because I absolutely despise that certain plotline. Domestic Dean for the win, yo.

* * *

**ii. the one with the booze**

* * *

In contrast to Dean, who is generally a party pooper and very distrusting, Jo befriends a handful of women in their town. Basically, it's almost impossible not to, since she works at a very popular diner with quite a few other waitresses and she frequents the playground more often than she'd like to admit, because Matt is a convincing little shit when he wants to.

She also has girls' nights out with them more often than not. Most of them have kids of their own, but a handful are still single and proud, so they like to hit it off and get drunk off their asses whenever they get the chance to. This translates into once, maybe twice a week.

And that's a fucking lot, according to Dean, for someone who has a two-year-old kid and works eight hours at a diner daily.

But Dean doesn't complain, because he sees how much the apple-pie life stresses her out sometimes. Even though their life now is better than anything they could have ever expected, Matt is still a handful and he knows that Jo's adjustment skills are kind of out of date. He thinks it's good for her to have a way out—someone else to talk to and bitch about her husband and her kid and how life is taking its toll on her more often than not, but it's still _her_ life, so she feels kind of guilty complaining about it. She needs to have a few hours a week to herself, to talk about shoes and makeup and all those things she claims to hate but ultimately doesn't, because he's seen her secretly read Cosmopolitan and window-shop downtown for hours.

Plus, girls' nights out give him a chance to watch football or Rocky without having to put up with Jo's nagging about his choice in cinema, and he can spend some quality time with his son.

And even though it almost always ends up with Matt drawing him instead of his coloring books and with Dean having to put great effort to get the stains out of the carpet, when Jo stumbles back with a goofy smile on her face, it's freaking worth it.

He always stays up waiting for her on those nights, because she always drinks more than she can take — which is quite a lot, because she has a remarkably high tolerance for alcohol despite her small size — and he doesn't trust her to find her way to the bed by herself. It's a miracle how she manages to find her way to the _house_ actually.

She always comes home around three in the morning, making enough noise to alert him, but not the neighbors or Matt. Dean thanks God for that, because their son is pretty cranky when he's woken up by something other than his internal clock and he's not that easy to put to sleep once he's awake.

Jo stumbles inside gracelessly, heading immediately for the kitchen, remembering even in her drunken haze that she needs to stay hydrated and that's where she always finds him. Leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, looking like he's about to scold her like a parent might, when in reality he's just enjoying himself watching her in this state. She's very convincible when she's drunk, after all, and he likes to make her make promises her sober self is definitely gonna regret.

On those fateful nights, she walks towards him giggling like a schoolgirl and grabs on his arm to balance herself as she stares at his face, her eyes as unfocused as her words are blurred.

"Do you know that I…" she begins, trailing off because she can't really form any complete thoughts, let alone sentences, at the moment. "You're like really pretty, Dean. You have pretty… freckles—and lips and—hm." She slumps against him and his arm goes around her for support. She doesn't mind when he cops a feel. "You're like human candy, y' know. So pretty and… like, _pretty_."

Dean tries not to laugh at her expense—although he fails miserably. Seeing Jo—sassy, no-nonsense, quick-talking Jo—stumble over words and furniture is truly a sight. He always picks her up bridal style, ignoring her giggles as he carries her up to their bedroom. He lays her down on the mattress on her side, tugs off her boots and socks, and places a bucket next to the bed. He slips under the covers and plays big spoon, making sure she'll stay on her side through the night, because he can't have her choking on her own puke, should that happen.

Jo is rather oblivious to most of the things occurring on those late Tuesday nights. And just for laughs, Dean sometimes tries to mess with her, telling her how she tried to give him a striptease or streak around the neighborhood wearing only his Batman boxers.

It usually doesn't end well for him, but it's kind of fun watching her wonder if she would indeed do those things before she decides he's a fucking moron and whacks him with a nearby copy of _Slaughterhouse Five_.


	3. the one with the breakfast

**********status **ongoing******  
****background **the domestic!au. Jo and Dean are happily married, still (sort of) hunting, and have a boy named Matt.******  
****notice **This chapter is a direct sequel to the previous one. I really want to show a version of Dean that is finally healing from his alcohol addiction. I think that if he had the chance to stop living like a hunter and have a family, then he would definitely give up drinking. And I really hate to see Dean broken and sorrowful, so I'm portraying him as anything but. Does it feel like Jo is maybe too out of her mind in this story? I like her a little bit crazy, I'm just wondering if I'm overdoing it.

* * *

**iii. the one with the breakfast**

* * *

Jo hates the mornings after her nights of debauchery. Mainly because they usually come hand in hand with raging hangovers that compel her to stay in bed for at least half the day. And given that Matt is mostly not up for letting her have said day off, she would rather not have a hangover altogether.

On the contrary, Dean thrives on those precious few days because they give him a chance to lecture her on the hazards of drinking to one's health and on the bad example she's setting for their son, sprinkled with a case of I-told-you-so's. Jo is so worn out during that time that she barely makes an effort to stand up to him. She just stuffs a pillow on her face and prays to every entity there is that it will be over soon.

She doesn't think it's fair for him to go out lecturing people about alcoholism—not that Jo's an _alcoholic_; she merely likes to have fun when she's out with her girls. Dean has been alcohol-free for almost three years now, except for the occasional beer every now and then. He hasn't touched whiskey in a very long time and somehow he thinks that this gives him the right to scold the people who do. He's healing, and that means that so must everyone else.

His favorite part during those lectures is when Jo argues that she only had that one extra drink because she thought she could handle it. She always says that she's had alcohol in her system since she was fifteen; she ought to have developed an immunity of sorts by now.

Dean calmly presses a cold compress against her forehead and tells her that there are other factors other than tolerance that determine how much a person is affected by alcohol—body mass, for example. And Jo can claim that she's built up a high tolerance for alcohol, but she's still a 5'4, hundred pound woman.

Anyway, other than lecturing her for her nightly habits, Dean is sure to make her a big greasy breakfast and give her lots of water whenever she overdoes it on girls' night. Unlike Jo, he's an early riser, and making breakfast is one of the things he likes most; making pancakes and waffles in the crack of dawn, while Matt and Jo are sleeping, and a tranquil silence resides in the house. He has an unearthly talent for cooking, Jo thinks, and when he decides to overdo it, he goes all out.

Go big or go home.

"So, we've got pancakes, French toast, waffles, croissants, orange juice, chocolate milk, coffee—"

"Water," Jo growls from under her pillow, reaching blindly for the water bottle that's on her nightstand. Dean pushes it into her hands and sets the overflowing tray on the empty space next to her, while he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Aren't you gonna eat anything?" he asks when she's been lying under the pillow for ten minutes without making any sound. "Babe, I made all this for you."

His psychological blackmail works every time and he knows it. Begrudgingly, Jo emerges from under the covers and sits up on the bed, careful not to move too quickly lest her headache gets worse.

"I'm fucking _dying_," she grumbles as she munches on a piece of toast. "Our son's gonna be motherless." As an afterthought, she adds, "Where's Matt?"

Dean isn't even impressed by her lack of motherly concern by now. "He's fed and changed. He's playing with the crayons."

Jo only half-listens to him as she takes two painkillers and washes them down with some juice. "I feel like shit."

"The hours between twelve and six am have a funny habit of making you feel like you're either on top of the world, or under it," he states smugly as a matter of fact, sipping his coffee like the non-hangover person he is.

Jo shoots him a death glare and finishes her croissant. "You're always a fucking bottom, Dean, what would you know?"

Dean frowns and takes the tray away from her. "Cook your own damn breakfast next time," he barks when she protests, and vanishes out of the room. It's a pattern between them on these lazy mornings; he brings her breakfast, plays smartass, she eats half of it, calls him on his bullshit, he gets offended and takes the food away from her.

She laughs at his retreating back and immediately regrets it because it makes her head hurt like a bitch. She falls back on her pillow and lets her eyes drop. Jo is on the verge of falling asleep when she feels being lifted off the mattress and opens her eyes to find Dean carrying her to the bathroom.

"What?" Dean asks with an edge, and he hasn't forgiven her yet, but that's them.

"You're gonna wash my hair, too?" she asks sheepishly and grins when he grumbles in affirmation. "And scrub my back?"

He places her on the edge of the tub that's already full and warm and soapy, and kisses her languidly as he slips off her clothes piece by piece. "You goddamn freeloader."

In the end, he lathers her entire body with soap, washes her hair twice and rinses it, scrubs her back and massages her shoulders dutifully, and Jo can't stop grinning at this awesome man she has in her life, promising him the best sex he's ever had when her stupid hangover's gone.

Because she might be a dumbass most of the time, but he still somehow finds it in himself to love her. And that makes her the luckiest hangover woman on the planet.


	4. the one with the fish

**********status **ongoing******  
****background **the domestic!au. Jo and Dean are happily married, still (sort of) hunting, and have a boy named Matt.  
**notice** It's 4am and I'm a flower with nothing interesting to say. My brother and I just finished the extended version of _The Fellowship of the Ring_ and I'm beat. I've also begun reading _The Hobbit_ today. Although no other progress has been noted. Pff, I hope I'll be able to have the next chapter up by tomorrow because I'm facing some technical difficulties at the moment. Oh, well.

* * *

**iv. the one with the fish**

* * *

They're not really animal people, either of them. Sure, Jo often jokes that if they hadn't ended up together, she'd have probably gotten herself a feline and retreated to witchcraft, but they both know that cats make her all squeamish. She mostly thinks they're evil.

Dean, on the other hand, has some sort of vendetta against dogs. It might be because Sam's furball, Bones, tried to bite off his hand once. In Bones' defense, Sam had insisted that Dean had somehow provoked him. It's an argument that the two of them still throw back and forth.

Furthermore, the one time Sam and Jess had made the mistake to bring their dog Riot with them in their visit, Matt had cried nonstop for three hours. Riot was an Australian Shepherd, a decidedly big dog, and the poor thing had been traumatized when it tried to lick his hand. Needless to say, Sam never let Riot tag along in his visits to his brother's house anymore.

However, one particularly humid afternoon, Jo struts home with a fish in a jar. Dean doesn't notice the fish right away, doesn't even pay attention to what Jo's holding in her hands. He's used to her bringing home unnecessary shit that he throws out a while after she's forgotten about them. Jo, the conniving little shit that she is, puts the fishbowl in the middle of the kitchen table, a sight to the world.

Dean chokes on his beer when he notices it, floating nonchalantly in its bowl and staring at him with wide, expressionless eyes.

"The fuck's that thing in the kitchen?" he asks Jo, stomping furiously into the living room, where she's setting up tower blocks with Matt.

"Don't swear in front of the kid," she tells him casually, not even bothering to address him properly, and it makes a vein pop on Dean's forehead. It's one thing to be told not to use profanity in front of your child and another to be told so by Miss Potty Mouth herself. Because foul language-wise, Jo wears the pants in this household.

"What is that thing in the kitchen?" he repeats the question with fake calmness.

Apparently pleased with his compliance, which is mostly a rare occurrence in this household by any of its members, she grins up at him. "It's a clownfish."

"Why is there a _fish_ on our kitchen table, Jo?" Dean presses on urgently, his patience running out by the second. These discussions wear him out faster than any werewolf hunt ever has.

"Well, you see—" And from that beginning Dean knows he's in for an unnecessarily long, bullshit story. "I was walking home earlier and I passed by Bernie's, you know, the pet shop next to the pharmacy, and Dean, _it was staring straight at me_. I could hear it whisper, 'take me home, Jo,' and I—well, I kinda walked in and bought it. It was only eleven dollars, you know. Isn't it awesome? It looks like Nemo."

Dean is merely staring dumbfoundedly at her after her little speech. It's times like these that he really worries about her sanity. "I don't care if it's freaking Moby Dick. It's leaving. Now."

He leaves the living room after saying his piece, going back to the kitchen to finish his beer. Which he doesn't, not in peace at least, because the fucking fish is _staring at him_. "Fuck you, too," he whispers, and the fish flops like an idiot.

Jo walks in during the said tête-à-tête and raises an eyebrow at him. "You know, I think it likes you. You're both grumps."

"It better be gone in five minutes, Jo, or I swear to God—"

She ignores him and pokes at the fishbowl, effectively scaring the poor fish to death. "I think I'm gonna call it Dean."

"Goddamn it, Jo, why the fuck do we need a fish?" Dean asks with resignation. He can never win an argument with this woman. Probably because she usually reduces the conversation to such an insane level that you'd have to be crazy to keep going at it.

Straightening her back and giving him a square look, Jo shrugs. "I don't know. I guess we don't. But we're keeping him, right?"

A sigh signals his defeat. "I'm not gonna fucking touch it. You're the only one responsible for it."

Her face lights up like the sky on the Fourth of July and she traps him against the counter with her body, lavishing him with kisses that he never quite gets tired of.

The real reason they don't keep pets isn't because they are not animal people. It's because they are fucking irresponsible and completely incapable of taking care of another living thing for more than a week. Really, it's a miracle that they've managed to keep Matt alive for two years without any major accidents in the process.

The fish dies two weeks later, when Jo forgets to feed it for three days straight. It's an unlamented loss on Dean's part.


	5. the one with the karaoke

**********status **ongoing  
**background** the domestic!au. Jo and Dean are happily married, still (sort of) hunting, and have a boy named Matt.  
**notice** This chapter was my favorite and I butchered it. Arrggh—I don't know what's wrong with me. The inspiration well is drying up. But I _so_ want to pull this project through without straying from the schedule. Fuck. I'm losing grip and I hate it.

* * *

**v. the one with the karaoke**

* * *

Dean and Jo's marital disputes are almost universally domestic, but they cover a wide variety of other topics as well. One of the most recurring ones is their taste in music. Dean is an avid fan of classic rock — Metallica, AC/DC, Zeppelin, the works — while Jo's collection can range from Creedence Clearwater Revival to REO Speedwagon to really tacky country music.

The quarrel over music genres is almost a daily phenomenon. Dean claims her music is shallow, she calls his outdated. Not that she disapproves of classic rock herself, it's just too fun to watch him fume and ramble about Cliff Burton's contribution to the industry of music.

However, Dean's true taste in music is highly doubtful, because even though he brags about his extensive knowledge of rock music approximately twenty-four-seven, Jo knows that he has a small stack of girly pop and silly country tapes stashed in the back of the glove compartment, which he listens to sometimes when he drives alone.

(She once made him a mix tape of the silliest pop music she could get her hands on and plugged it in when he was in the bathroom. He didn't talk to her for three days.)

Jo will never let him live down the time she caught him singing _Bad Romance_ in the shower. One other time, when he had to keep the Impala in the garage for five days due to some engine problem, she could hear him mumble _I'm All out of Love _as he treaded around the house with a nostalgic expression.

But despite his claims that he's a macho man who listens only to very manly music and acts accordingly, Dean has a knack for singing karaoke on numerous occasions, and he almost never chooses his favorite songs to sing. He sings REO Speedwagon most often. He sings to her when she's sick, when he's overly excited about something, and begrudgingly to Matt as well. The fact that their son seems to lean more towards _her_ taste in music rather than Dean's is one of the things that bother him the most.

One other occasion when he opts for REO Speedwagon, is when he's driving home from a hunt. He calls Jo up every time when he's about twenty miles down the road and sings _Can't Fight This Feeling _on the top of his lungs because that's his coming home song.

In general, they don't hunt. At least not like they used to. They hunt only occasionally and never together. Someone always stays back with Matt, just in case. Although they merely take minor cases just around the state, the risk is still there, lurking in the shadows at all times. And because they know that better than anyone, Dean's karaoke calls are something Jo waits impatiently for.

However, as open as Dean is to serenading for Jo on numerous occasions in private, he's not particularly eager to do so in public. But he does have his moments.

They are out with a couple of friends — Dean has shown remarkable progress in not being suspicious of everyone they meet and is actually getting along with the guys — at a local bar for Jo's birthday one night, when Dean casually slips off his stool, moving up to the local band that's providing the bar with background music. He grabs the mike and winks at Jo's general direction, before bringing it to his lips.

"Hey—hey, folks. Can I have your attention for a moment? Thanks. This—this is for a very special woman whose birthday is today. To Jo," he says with a raise of his beer, "who makes my days insufferable and awesome at the same time."

It's a cheesy speech. Not of the conventional kind, but still cheesy. Dean chugs down the rest of his beer while the band plays the intro to their trademark song, and then he sings it like a lovestruck idiot and Jo laughs. Because he's an idiot, but he's _her_ idiot.

She gives him a sloppy wet kiss when he jogs up to her after his little performance, making a promise of more when they're back in the privacy of their home. Ellen's got Matt for the weekend, so it's gonna be a blast.

Dean sings _Can't Fight This Feeling _twice more that night — in public, that is — making the whole bar wolf-whistle every now and then. She joins him on the last attempt, because that's the deal with Dean. She may make his life a balancing act between Heaven and Hell, but he makes hers an _adventure_.

Plus, he can pull off Lady Gaga like a fucking pro.


	6. the one with the nesting

**************status **ongoing**  
****background** the domestic!au. Jo and Dean are happily married, still (sort of) hunting, and have a boy named Matt.**  
****notice** I may have a tidbit of an inspiration rush. I really like the idea of Dean nesting, as we've seen him do in the bunker. I apologize if the chapters are shorter as of late, but each of them focuses on a different aspect of Dean and Jo's married life and sometimes I really don't have many things to add. I may have to completely modify chapter eight for this reason. So, anyway, six down, four more to go.

* * *

**vi. the one with the nesting**

* * *

Dean decorates the house, because he likes to nest. Growing up on the road, with dingy motels being the only place close to a home, he didn't have many opportunities to make a place his. He had only a few personal possessions other than knives, guns and ammunition. But when he and Jo had decided to build a life together and bought their own house, Dean had finally had his chance to make a house his own by decorating it as he liked.

He goes furniture shopping and spends hours going over color combinations. Jo thinks it's funny, mostly. She lets him get on with it undisturbed, because she knows it's something he's never had the chance to do. She, on the other hand, has had her own room in her own house for as long as she can remember. And even after she had left the Roadhouse, she rarely lived on the road. She took up residence in a town and found a job there, while working up a reputation as a hunter.

Jo doesn't know what it's like to _not_ have a home to return to at the end of the day, so she lets Dean go all out when decorating theirs. Nesting means healing, and she knows he's in dire need of that.

"You know, people don't believe me when I tell them you did all the furniture shopping. Guess it's hard to imagine a macho man like you picking out curtains to match with the carpet," she teases him on many occasions. "Don't worry; nobody suspects that you're a regular housewife."

"Shut up," Dean replies with a blush. He _is _a macho man, after all, and Jo's stabs on his masculinity are not appreciated.

All in all, Dean is responsible for their furniture and their carpets and their knick knacks, but it's not like Jo stays uninvolved in the nesting process. She sometimes comes home with weird things that she wins in poker and pool games—she works part-time at a bar on some nights. And usually she's all proud of this and that ugly and gaudy thing and Dean's left staring uninterested, because he's so used to Jo bringing home useless shit that he can't even bring himself to react anymore.

"Yeah, that can go in the closet," he dismisses her without as much as a bat of an eyelash.

"But _Dean_!" Jo complains, waving the ugly mini-parrot statue in front of his face. Matt giggles from his place on the couch and Jo points at him with a grin. "See, even Matt likes it!"

Dean glares at his son, the little traitor, who never seems to back him up on anything. He swears that Jo's been corrupting his mind when he's not looking. "Kid's got your disoriented taste in art, what did you expect?"

"_Excuse you,_" Jo says in offense. "I've got great taste in art."

"Well, if it's only half as bad as your taste in music, then it's awful."

"Oh, Winchester. You just _had _to go there."

In the end, Jo wins the argument by making such sad eyes that Dean has no other choice but to growl in frustration and put the ugly thing in the living room. Sometimes he thinks that she might be a sorceress; that she has put a spell on him from the very first moment they met and so he's bound to bend to her every whim, while giving him the false impression that he can have it his way by putting up an argument. Some other times, he just thinks that she's so disoriented and her mind is so disturbed that he simply takes pity in her and lets her have her way out of mere sympathy.

Jo claims it's because he is undeniably and irrevocably in love with her. He says it's debatable and ensues another round of bitching at each other.

In the end, Dean might be the one who picks out the colors on their walls and their furniture and all the major decorations of their house, but it's Jo's random objects and prizes that give their house character. It's the ugly parrot statue and the crude cowboy painting — which still kind of scares him every time he has to pass it by on his way to the kitchen — and definitely the platter with the ill-shaped candles that make their house _theirs_.

It's those little kitsch details in their otherwise tasteful little abode that make the Winchester home what it really is. The house of two disoriented hunters with a havoc-wreaking kid that don't know shit about normal but they're trying to get there anyway.

Dean might be the one who likes to nest, but without Jo and Matt, it would never be _his_ nest.


	7. the one with the cuddling

******************status **ongoing******  
****background** the domestic!au. Jo and Dean are happily married, still (sort of) hunting, and have a boy named Matt.******  
****notice** I got to say, I'm really disappointed in the lack of feedback on this story. I didn't expect a chaos of reviews, but then again I didn't expect none at all either. I'm shocked. Anyway, I want to clear out a few things. Adam is alive in this AU and he is a part of the Winchesters' strangely functional family. He spends his holidays and some weekends at Dean and Jo's, and while Dean and him bump heads more often than not, Jo adores him. Sam is living with Jess in... well, I haven't decided where yet, but they are together. Hey, if Jo is alive, then I don't see why Jess can't be. Three chapters to go, kiddies.

* * *

**vii. the one with the cuddling**

* * *

Both Dean and Jo are used to living intense lives. Being a hunter has a tendency on keeping you constantly on edge. And even though they have mostly left that kind of life behind them, the intensity still creeps into their routine from time to time. They are, after all, very busy people. What with their respective jobs and household chores and Matt, they have every right to feel stressed at any time.

However, they also know how to relieve stress better than anyone. Dean works on the Impala or cooks like there's no tomorrow; Jo reads books, from cheesy romance novels to mysterious detective stories, and spends time with Matt, making a fool out of herself in order to hear her usually grumpy son giggle.

But they do stuff together, too. When they're too bored to argue or too tired to have sex, they plop on the couch in front of the TV and catch up on their favorite series. They watch _Breaking Bad, The Walking Dead _and _Sons of Anarchy _and a shitload more—but never _Game of Thrones_, because they can't get through one episode without one of them getting horny. The truth is, they're both major geeks. And for once in their lives, they have the chance to act on it. Their routine more than encourages them to be couch-potatoes.

(They invest a shitload of money on buying a monster couch to lie on when they're watching their stuff.)

Although on Jo's part, it's not that much about being a geek. Sure, she likes her shows as much as the next person, fangirls over actors and fictional characters until Dean bitches at her to stop, but the real reason is that she just likes to cuddle. She likes to curl up front-to-front with Dean so that she can touch his chest and his tummy and fall asleep with her hand cupping his face, which never fails to turn him into a warm pile of goo. Even if he — almost always — tries to mask it with irritation.

"Stop elbowing me in the freaking ribs, Jo," he growls under the flimsy blanket, when Jo has fallen asleep once again while they're watching _Suits_.

"'S not my fault you're _everywhere_," she grumbles drowsily and shifts her position on top of him, earning a groan from Dean when she accidentally digs her elbow in his stomach.

"_Right. _Sorry for taking up my _own_ space on the couch," Dean tells her grumpily, trying to shake her off of him, but failing miserably.

"You're forgiven," Jo sighs happily, her eyes still closed, but the tone in her voice indicating that she's not asleep anymore. "What's happening?"

Dean turns his eyes back on the screen. "Scumbag Trevor's back in the picture."

"God, I hate that guy. What a dumb fucker."

"Language, Jo," Dean scolds and she sticks her tongue out at him, before burying her face against his chest once again and drifting back to sleep.

They watch their shows together, but sometimes Jo drifts off and then has to pester him into telling her what happened while she was asleep because there's no way she's gonna watch it by herself—without her cuddle-buddy nearby.

She doesn't initiate cuddling only when they're watching television. Jo is generally the kind of person who initiates physical with just about anyone. She places her hand on people's arms when she's deep into conversation with them, she finds excuses to hug Adam when he's holed up on the desk working on a paper for med school, she kisses Dean more often than not, and she cradles Matt to her chest until he starts to squirm in her arms. She's a touchy person.

Every night when they go to bed, no matter if they're mad at each other or all lovey-dovey, Jo always slips into Dean's arms and snuggles against his side like a cat. She says it's mostly a remnant of her childhood, when she used to sneak into her parents' bedroom at night and slip between them, enjoying the feeling of being squished by the two people she loved most in the world. Dean thinks it's one of the things that make her feel close to her dad — like hunting.

So he simply smiles and hugs her closer, to the point where she has to purposefully elbow him in the ribs for him to release his tight hold on her. But it's okay, because Jo understands as well. It's his way of feeling close to his mom and dad, too.


End file.
